It seemed Harold had issued a private decree before his death because although the ministers and nobles knew that Alaric had once been banished, none of them knew the exact reason behind it.

They only knew he had been stripped of his titles and forbidden from returning to Eryndor.

Since Harold had never spoken openly about the matter, people only knew that the crime had been grave enough for the former king to banish his own son and that made them fear Alaric even more.

"You’ve improved," Alaric said as the two brothers finally stopped sparring.

Drystan smiled widely while lowering his sword. "Father made sure I trained every day while you were away, so it would’ve been embarrassing if I stayed the same."

Alaric nodded slightly in agreement before unsheathing his sword fully to inspect the blade. "What was it like after I left?" he asked casually, though his eyes remained fixed on the weapon in his hand.

Drystan’s expression softened slightly. "I noticed he avoided talking about you most times and whenever I asked questions, he always found a way to divert my attention." He paused before looking at his brother properly. "Was the argument truly that bad?"

Alaric swallowed once before answering, "Something like that."

Drystan noticed the way he avoided saying more and decided not to press further.

Silence lingered briefly between them before Alaric spoke again. "Do you think I could visit him at the royal mausoleum?" he asked quietly.

Drystan frowned immediately at the question. "Why would you even ask me that? He was your father too."

Then his expression softened again. "It’ll be better if we go together. He would’ve been happy to see us both there."

Something unreadable flickered briefly across Alaric’s eyes before he nodded slowly. "You’re right," he said. "We should go together."

Not long after, the two brothers stood inside the royal mausoleum where Harold had been laid to rest. Candles flickered quietly around the chamber while incense burned beneath the large portrait placed above his tomb. The atmosphere there felt cold and still.

"Father..." Alaric began softly while staring at the portrait, his lips curling into a faint smile. "I’m back."

Yet while he stood there, Harold’s final words echoed clearly through his mind.

Never return again. Over my dead body will you ever step foot inside this palace.

And now Alaric had returned exactly when Harold was dead.

All those years away from Eryndor had not changed him for the better. Instead, the bitterness inside him had only deepened and sharpened until it became something darker. He had not returned for peace and he certainly had not returned because he missed home. He had returned because he intended to reclaim what he believed had always belonged to him.

"Drystan has become the kind of king you always hoped he would be," Alaric continued calmly. "And I’ll remain beside him to guide and support him, so you have nothing to worry about."

Drystan smiled at those words, completely unaware of what truly rested beneath them. "Yes, father," he said softly while looking at the portrait. "Eryndor will remain exactly as you wanted it to be."

At that moment, the candle flames flickered strangely as though a silent warning had passed through the room.

Before long, Alaric was granted command over a portion of the royal soldiers. Since he was highly skilled in combat and strategy, the army quickly grew to admire him while others feared him just as much. The nobles and ministers still remained wary of him at first, although some slowly began seeing him differently over time. Alaric also started involving himself in court matters and political affairs more frequently.

"The kingdom of Merovia has delayed repayment for far too long," one of the councilmen announced during court one morning. "It is time Eryndor reclaimed what is owed."

Drystan rested his chin lightly against his knuckles as he listened. "Is there no other solution?" he asked calmly. "I would rather avoid creating tension between both kingdoms because Merovia benefits from Eryndor just as much as we benefit from them."

"Well..." another minister began carefully, "they have proposed that their princess be promised in marriage to Your Grace once she comes of age."

Drystan blinked slightly at the unexpected proposal. A marriage alliance had not been what he anticipated hearing.

Alaric leaned back slightly where he stood. "And are you planning to accept that arrangement in exchange for the debt?" he asked his brother.

Drystan thought briefly before answering. "It is not the worst solution," he admitted, though the thought crossed his mind that what if the princess was unwilling to marry him. He knew in situations like this, emotions do not matter but Drystan wasn’t the type to force something.

"I will agree to it," he finally said. "But if she is unwilling when the time comes, then I will not force her into a marriage she does not want."

The ministers nodded in approval because everyone in the court knew their king was compassionate and fair in his judgments.

Days passed into weeks and weeks turned into months. During that time, Alaric continued proving himself loyal to Drystan and eventually rose to the position of Lord Commander of the royal army. Drystan trusted him completely and gradually, the bond between the brothers became stronger again and it almost seemed as though the years of separation had never happened at all.

Alaric also gained the support of several noblemen and ministers while Eryndor continued flourishing peacefully beneath Drystan’s rule.

To Drystan, it felt as though everything was finally falling into place because he believed his brother stood beside him faithfully.

But what Drystan did not know was that while peace continued on the surface, Alaric had already begun quietly gathering people to his side, especially those who believed the crown should have belonged to him from the very beginning. And beneath the peace of Eryndor, something dangerous was already beginning to grow unnoticed.

****

It was during the year of Drystan’s reign when war soon befell Eryndor and it was far from a simple conflict because the enemy kingdom sought complete destruction.

Drystan had tried to avoid it from the very beginning, but every attempt at peace failed until war became unavoidable.

Soon soldiers began dying in alarming numbers while fear spread throughout the kingdom. Curfews were imposed across Eryndor and the streets that had once been lively and peaceful now fell silent before nightfall. Families mourned endlessly while injured soldiers continued returning from the battlefield covered in blood and exhaustion.

The peace Harold had spent years building was slowly beginning to crumble before Drystan’s eyes and no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop it.

One evening, Alaric entered the war chamber where Drystan had been studying battle reports restlessly.

"What kind of a king are you," Alaric asked sharply, "if you cannot even lead your own battle?"

Drystan lifted his gaze slowly toward him while Alaric continued. "Are you just going to remain here while your people die for you?"

The words struck Drystan harder than he wanted to admit and the guilt had already been weighing heavily upon him for weeks.

"The advisors believe it is safer this way," Drystan answered after a moment. "If anything happens to me, then there will be nobody left to rule Eryndor."

Alaric scoffed slightly before stepping closer. "Nothing will happen to you," he said firmly. "Your soldiers need to see their king fighting beside them because that alone can give them hope." Then his expression softened just enough. "And besides... I’ll be there."

Drystan fell silent for a moment while considering his words carefully. Eventually, he exhaled quietly before nodding in agreement.

By dawn, preparations were already being made for war and Drystan was fastening the final pieces of his armour while servants hurried around him anxiously.

"Your Majesty, this is too dangerous," the royal attendant pleaded while following after him desperately. "Please reconsider this. You are still too young to risk yourself on the battlefield."

Drystan paused briefly before looking back at him. "I swore to protect Eryndor," he said calmly. "I cannot fulfil that oath while hiding behind palace walls and allowing my people to die for me." His expression hardened slightly afterward. "This war has to end."

And with that, he mounted his horse while Alaric climbed onto his own beside him. Together, they rode out toward the battlefield surrounded by soldiers carrying the banners of Eryndor.

The war itself was brutal. Steel clashed endlessly while screams and the sounds of horses filled the air. Blood stained the battlefield as soldiers fell one after another and through it all, the two brothers fought side by side. Alaric remained close to Drystan throughout the battle, striking down enemies before they could reach him while Drystan fought with everything he had despite the chaos surrounding them.

Eventually, Eryndor emerged victorious and the enemy forces finally began retreating across the field.

But relief had barely settled before suddenly an arrow shot through the air unseen.

Before anyone could react, it pierced directly into Drystan’s chest.

Blood spilled from his lips instantly while his body stiffened from the impact. His vision blurred almost immediately and the sounds around him became distant and muffled as though the world itself was fading away.

Then slowly, he fell from his horse into darkness.

Alaric’s eyes widened instantly as he caught Drystan before he hit the ground, while soldiers rushed toward them in panic.